


A Play Of Shadows

by Teawithmagician



Category: Original Work
Genre: City Fantasy, Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Ghosts, Mystic Insane, Mysticism, Shadows - Freeform, Vampires, play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teawithmagician/pseuds/Teawithmagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vampire writer bites mentally unstable actor at the bookshop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Play Of Shadows

PERSONS IN THE PLAY

 

Gertrude van der Kloet, _bookshop owner_  
Dennis Copperfield, _beginning actor_  
Mohammad Ramzy, _programmer, former Marine_  
Leila Ramzy, _surgeon at city hospital_  
  


 

 

ACT ONE

 

 

 

Darkened autumn lane. The only city light is seen before a small antique bookshop. A man in green coat and red boots is standing before the door, cigarette clenched in his teeth.

 

 

Dennis: A night bookshop. I wouldn't read at night. I would sleep, but I didn't. (enters)

 

Dennis: Smells with dust. ( _lights a cigarette_ )

 

Trudy ( _comes out of the shadows_ ): Now what are you doing?

 

Dennis: Smoking.

 

Trudy: Have a lighter?

 

Dennis: Yes.

 

Trudy: And a cigarette?

 

Dennis: Here.

 

Trudy: Not the whole pack.

 

Dennis: I'm generous.

 

Trudy ( _peers at him intensively_ ): You are confused.

 

Dennis: You just stepped out of nowhere. This doesn't fucking happen to me every day.

 

Trudy ( _points out the place behind the bookshelf_ ): No, there was a shadow. Look.

 

Dennis: No, there wasn't.

 

Trudy: And what if there was?

 

Dennis: Your tricks are just not working on me.

 

Trudy: I beg your pardon for I wasn't going to catch up with your irony in any way, as I have better things to do in the darkness.

 

Dennis: You are creepy.

 

Trudy: A strange notice from a man who picked up his shirt from the basket of dirty laundry. If I had a breakfast, I would possibly vomit it out in the position near your shoes, which happen to be not even leather.

 

Dennis: Ain't it a little bit too late for a breakfast? Or too early. By the way, using too much electricity sways badly on the environment.

 

Trudy: Ah, yes. You have no money for the laundry, haven't you?

 

Dennis: I bet your boss is a lawn mower seller who inherited that piece of old dusty crap from his mentally unstable grandmother. You are working here just because everyone refused to publish your book because it lacked everything, especially taste.

 

Trudy: You are talking like you are stable, Mr. Great Writer of the Order of Dirty Shirts from Laundry-to-be-done Basket.

 

Dennis: Look, I'm not a writer, I'm an actor. There is some difference here, like, you know, I don't write or read much, I have dyslexia – at least, that's what my doctor used to say. She was a bitch, you need to know that as I am going to tell you the whole story.

 

Trudy: You must be a bad actor. I haven't seen you in the cinema.

 

Dennis: Ha-ha, like funny. The truth is that I am an actor only on the surface, and that's why the surface needed. On the inside, I'm a creep who sees nightmares about horror films he's never seen before. ( _in a grotesquely dramatic voice_ ) Have you ever spoke to the dead? Felt their ghastly voices in your ears?

 

Trudy: It happens more often than you can imagine, young man.

 

Dennis: You might be Remark girl, nearly the type. Would you kiss me, kick me or marry me? Don't tell, I know you wouldn't kiss. Is it because of I am a creep? The most common answer is “yes”.

 

Trudy: It's because I'm actually working on a novel which hasn't hit the publisher's bureau table yet if you wonder. But I need to warn you that this, the work namely, often makes me overreacting, and you've just touched my feelings and I feel annoyed.

 

Dennis: A novel? Serves me right, I kind of smell writers, or, at least, the worst of them... Are you writing porn? I'm asking because porn sells. I would try casting in porn, but my dick is not long enough. What a shame, huh.

 

Trudy ( _irritatedly_ ): The shop is closed.

 

Dennis: Really? I haven't seen a nameplate.

 

Trudy ( _a nameplate appears in her hands_ ): Like this? Read. When - go.

 

Dennis: And if I don't want to go?

 

Trudy: It would be better if you were not going to start with all that nuisance you've just told.

 

Dennis ( _awkwardly sincere_ ): I was not. This place is shitty, but I am shitty, too. I've searched for such a place, maybe, for all my life. A place to come and stay. It looks familiar like a nightmare.

 

Trudy: It is like nightmares are the most interesting part of your life.

 

Dennis: Damn right. If I wrote them down, I would be more famous than Stephen King and Dean Koontz altogether, but if you slept with me, I would have no time for them.

 

Trudy ( _seizes Dennis' neck)_ : Get the hell away from here!

 

Dennis ( _squeaks_ ): You can't beat me harder than in High School.

 

Trudy: You are as disgusting as all those romantic poets. Even more disgusting because you never stop talking, you bleeding thing. Porn sells, and classic literature doesn't? That's that all the publishers say! ( _bites Dennis' neck_ )

 

Dennis ( _wheezes, his chest moving_ ): Easy, easier on me... Arrgh! A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a! ( _makes a gurgling noise_ )

 

Trudy ( _mumbling quietly_ ): I so apologize... But I asked you to go. Should I consider it as an agreement and an invitation both?

 

 

Dennis are sliding along the wall with Trudy stuck to his neck, his arms and legs jumbling. Grandfather Clock behind the bookcases strikes twelve.

 

 

 

 

 

ACT TWO

 

 

 

Hallway of a modern flat, narrow and darkened. Dennis opens the door and falls on the rug, his legs outside in the staircase.

 

 

Mohammad ( _calls from his room_ ): Dennis, close the door! It's cold outside.

 

Mohammad: Dennis, the door! I've just taken off my prosthesis. I ain't gonna jump to the hallway to kick your ass.

 

Mohammad: Man, this time, I have a story. Remember that girl from Fire Department who asked me if I lost my leg because I was a terrorist? I told her that my name doesn't mean I am a jihad hobbyist. She is coming for dinner the day after tomorrow.

 

Mohammad: Dennis, if you won't slam the door, I will slam your head with it. She will come on Tuesday. You can come, too, but I want you to change your shirt. This one really stinks.

 

Mohammad: Goddammit, you made me put the prosthesis on. You owe me that, buddy, you owe me that.

 

 

Mohammad comes into the hallway and sees Dennis lying on the floor.

 

 

Mohammad: Dennis, you are drunk! You need to get a job. It's hard for an actor, I know. But look at me, my name is Mohammad! How do you think the one are taking Mohammad who applies for a job at...

 

 

Mohammad turns on the light and flips Dennis to the back. He sees Dennis' throat lacerated, with no

blood came out on the rug.

 

 

Mohammad: Holy shit! Dennis, you are totally messed up! Who fucking was it – a pit bull? ( _drags Dennis to the living room_ ) Don't die you prick! I was a soldier, not a doctor, and you are not a first aid case. ( _puts Dennis on the couch and examines his throat ones again_ ) Shit, such a hole and ain't no blood. ( _takes the phone_ ) Fuck, I need to call the Emergency, I need a medic. Where is the fucking phone? Ah, here you are. I need to call... Leila!

 

 

Mohammad dials the number, his face stiff and tensed.

 

 

Mohammad ( _talks to himself_ ): Leila, you are at home, aren't you? Not one of those parties where everyone so... ( _hears the voice and starts in a relaxed tone_ ) Hola, sis! Yes, I remember not to call you like that. Okay, I'm like sorry. Now cut the crap... No cut no crap? Okay, okay, I'm really sorry, but Dennis...

 

 

Mohammad hears the short beeps. Swears and dials again.

 

 

Mohammad ( _seriously_ ): Leila, it's me. Don't do it again. Look here, Dennis... No, Dennis is not on the drugs. No, no experimental plays there he moonshines on the scene. I swear, no. Yes, I remember. Your ex, you are totally done with that shit. But... Leila, would you please don't interrupt me FOR A FUCKING SECOND? Yes, please. His throat is cut open. There's a hole in a size of an apple. No blood, just a hole. Alive? ( _squats to touch Dennis' wrist is his arm hangs from the couch_ ) Yes, I can feel his pulse. It's still here. And you are not! Yes, okay.

 

 

Mohammad sits on the stool and looks at Dennis. He stands up and goes to another room to come back with a gun. He hides the gun behind his shirt but something disturbs him. Mohammad frowns and puts the gun on the shelf behind the starship models.

 

 

Mohammad: Just in case, buddy, just in case.

 

 

Doorbells rings. Mohammad strides into the hallway and opens the door. His sister Leila stands on the staircase. She looks sleepy but decisive.

 

 

Leila ( _abruptly_ ): Now where is he?

 

 

Leila takes off her coat, Mohammad sticks it into the wardrobe.

 

 

Mohammad: On the couch.

 

 

Mohammad and Leila come into the living room. Leila sees Dennis and her eyes narrow.

 

 

Leila ( _in a loud, accusing voice_ ): What he got into this time? Fighting Club? Satanists? Got cast for the guy who dies in the openings and started Stanislavsky training?

 

Mohammad: I don't know what has really happened. He just came like this and fell in the hallway so I dragged him here. I examined him and called you, because like – fuck, I saw things like this only when I lost my leg...

 

Leia ( _interrupts him_ ): I need to wash my hands.

 

Mohammad: He'll die while you are washing.

 

Leila ( _menacingly_ ): He hasn't died while I was going here. I need my hands clean.

 

 

Leila walks out the living room. The door creaks, the sound of pouring water heard.

 

 

Mohammad ( _talking to Dennis_ ): Buddy, this shit is a real bad shit you got into.

 

Leila ( _returns to the room_ ): Good. Give me a chair. Yes, put it here.

 

Mohammad ( _his hands in the pockets, stands against the wall_ ): You command me more often than my sergeant.

 

Leila: I need silence, I'm working. ( _examines the wound on Dennis' neck_ ) A thick layer of gore, and... You said the hole in his throat was in a size of an apple?

 

Mohammad: I did.

 

Leila: There is no hole. ( _removes crust from Dennis' wound and shows Mohammad sickly pale skin_ ) Nothing but a scar covered with gore.

 

Mohammad: What the hell? There was a fucking wound. I ain't blind, I've seen it with my own eyes... Look at him!

 

 

Leila turns to Dennis and she sees his eyes open.

 

 

Leila ( _nervously_ ): Dennis! Look at the finger. Now your pupils are narrow. Are you on drugs? What's your wound – greasepaint? Do you understand how irresponsible is this, coming to Mohammad like this?

 

Dennis ( _calmly_ ): It's too much light. My eyes hurt.

 

Leila ( _to Mohammad_ ): Turn it off!

 

Mohammad: If I do, we won't see a fucking thing.

 

Leila: The only fucking thing in the room is now talking back to me from the couch, and it needs the light to go down. Dennis, what's happened?

 

Dennis ( _starts slowly, then fastens_ ): I... don't know. I can't see, I can always hear. Whispers from the corners are telling me the stories I don't want to hear, saying me the thing I don't want to do... Calidum, calidum!

 

 

Dennis throws himself on Leila and pins her to the floor. Dennis' eyes are rolled, only whiteness blinks between the lids. Leila screams.

 

 

Mohammad: Get the hell away from my sister! ( _hits Dennis with the chair_ )

 

 

Dennis rushes on Mohammad, but Leila grabs his legs and Dennis stumbles. The time is enough for Mohammad to jump aside and grab the gun from the shelf. But Dennis instead of attacking him jumps into the window, breaking it.

 

 

Leila ( _in a faint voice)_ : If he played like that all the time, he would get Oscar in a week. But he was used to saying he needed to be fit, like actor-fit, not the fitness one. Pills kept the tantrums away, but they didn't make him fit.

 

Mohammad: Are you raving mad?

 

Leila: I'm stressed out, moron! Now give me a hand.

 

 

Mohammad helps Leila stand up. They look out of the window, expecting to see Dennis' body broken on the ground. It's dark in the lane and hard to see anything.

 

 

Mohammad: Can you see him?

 

Leila: No.

 

Mohammad: I have two questions: where fucking is he and what fucking was it?

 

Leila: Drug abuse? Psychosis? Especially strong tantrum?

 

Mohammad: Possession by an especially moron demon?

 

Leila: It's not the time for jokes.

 

Mohammad ( _thoughtfully_ ): He's spoken Latin, that would pass. Do you feel alright? I do. Adrenalin struck me hard, I nearly miss the Marine Corps.

 

 

The sound of the doorbell interrupts them.

 

 

 

 

 

ACT THREE

 

 

 

Trudy stands in the doorway. She is wearing an old-fashioned coat and boots that seem vintage.

 

 

Trudy: Good evening, I am Gertrude. You look troubled.

 

Leila: No, I don't have a moment to speak about Christ, Our Saviour.

 

Trudy: I won't mind you serving Satan, but I have questions to ask, which, I'm afraid, only you are able to respond.

 

Leila: Dear whoever you are in heavens, give me strength. Who are you and what are you doing here? You have limited time for the answer. One, two...

 

 

Leila nearly slams the door into Trudy's face.

 

 

Trudy: I'm here for Dennis.

 

Leila: What's with Dennis?

 

Mohammad: Yeah, what's with him? Does he have rabies, or what?

 

Trudy: He's attacked you, hasn't he? May I come in, by the way? I need to see the place.

 

Leila: The door is open.

 

Trudy: I do apologize, I need an invitation.

 

Leila ( _angrily_ ): Your religion forbids you to come without it, or what?

 

Trudy: Well, yes. In a way. Would you please invite me?

 

Leila: As I've already said, the door is open.

 

Mohammad: Goodness, just let her in. I know you are stressed, but you needn't...

 

Leila ( _snaps at him_ ): I am a surgeon. I've seen worse things, and I am not stressed.

 

Mohammad: But... ( _gives up under Leila's intensive look_ ) Okay, you are not stressed.

 

Trudy ( _patiently_ ): Ehem. I really need to get in to understand how bad the things... erm... I guess, are.

 

Mohammad ( _opens the door_ ): Of course, come in. We are a bit fucked up, I mean – nervous.

 

 

Trudy walks in. Mohammad follows her, Leila is after him in a few steps.

 

 

Trudy: Now thank you, I'm much obliged. ( _heading through the flat_ ) This is the hallway where he felt, this must be the living room he got dragged into, the couch he lied...

 

 

Mohammad lets Leila go forward, making a gesture in military sign language “Suspect”.

 

 

Leila ( _frowns_ ): How do you know?

 

Trudy ( _stares at the couch where Dennis has lied, her eyes not blinking_ ): I wouldn't say correctly if responding I am ought to. Oh, those are bad news. Silly little soul got caught in the shadows. My fault. So impulsive, so hasty – but why shouldn't he leave when I told him?

 

Leila ( _raises her voice_ ): Are you his doctor, or what? Do you realize how weird it all looks?

 

Trudy ( _surprised_ ): Me? A doctor? ( _hesitates for a moment_ ) Yes, I am. In a way, I absolutely precise am. He hasn't bitten you, has he? I believe he hasn't, but I needed to ask. ( _adds with an absent-minded look_ ) It's a vital question for my deadly dilemma.

 

Leila ( _persistently_ ): If you are a doctor, what hospital you work at? You must have introduced yourself first. And you haven't explained what happened to Dennis yet. I have too many questions for you, but let's start from your work first.

 

Trudy: I... have a small private practice. ( _timidly_ ) It's not forbidden by the Law, for a woman to cure whoever she wants to. And if it was forbidden, that would be a shame, I believe.

 

Leila: Really? ( _sarcastically_ ) And what is your name, doctor, and your license number? If you have a practice, you have them both. It's not forbidden by the Law either.

 

Trudy ( _with weak indignation_ ): My name is Gertrude van der Kloet, and my license – why are you asking me such a nuisance when your fiancé's life is at stake?

 

Leila: Mohammad, close the door.

 

 

Mohammad locks the door of the living room and stays by it. Trudy doesn't look at him but it is like she knows where he stands.

 

 

Leila: Dennis is not my fiancé, and you are not a doctor. You have a bookshop down the street, the night one. I remember your name on the doorplate. You are a liar. What do you really do in that “night bookshop” of yours – sell drugs?

 

Mohammad ( _aside_ ): God fucking lord, this all becomes a film noir, mixed with thriller and a bad comedy.

 

Trudy ( _calmly_ ): You will have time enough to call the police, but maybe you will also have time to listen to the important things I am going to tell you? I've lied about my practice, I confess, but I have less in common with drugs when I supposed to.

 

Leila: No, I don't! Call the police. I know your type, selling drugs to idiots like Dennis in strange dark places, sneaking to the arthouse premieres and lurking in cafes. You know what? Not on my shift, lady.

 

 

The light blinks and goes off, only the lamp near the sofa is somehow lit. There is a sound of shuffling in the hallway, but no breath or other sounds of living.

 

 

Mohammad: What the hell...

 

 

He tries to get to the hallway, but Trudy already stands before him, her hand on the handle.

 

 

Trudy: You don't want to go there and to meet them, believe me.

 

Mohammad: Holy fuck, how you... How could you...

 

Leila ( _stunned_ ): I never saw her moved.

 

Trudy: Please, you really get to listen to me.

 

 

The lock clicks from the outside and the handle clicks in response, but Trudy holds it still.

 

 

Mohammad ( _grabs Trudy's shoulder_ ): Now you need to explain me something, lady. Who is coming after you?

 

Trudy: I think that in truth I don't.

 

 

Mohammad is thrown on the sofa. Trudy's face is distorted, it is sharp and angry, with the mouth full of thin long teeth.

 

 

Mohammad: The fuck is this?

 

Trudy: Don't look at your sister. She won't give you your gun you dropped when I moved you on the couch. I beg your pardon, but it was a necessity, not a whim: it guarantees your safety.

 

Leila: I'm not going to give him the gun. ( _picks up and points the gun at Trudy_ ) He's not the only one who can shoot. We both competed at school, and I was the best.

 

Trudy: I inclined to agree that you were. But you can't kill me. And you can't kill those who are behind the door with that tiny little thing.

 

 

The door shakes. It seems like the darkness from the hallway soaks into the living room from under the door.

 

 

Trudy: Will you believe me now? Will you listen to me now?

 

 

Leila and Mohammad exchange the looks, and Mohammad nods slightly. Leila removes the gun from the guard and pulls the trigger. Mohammad throws himself on Trudy seconds after the shot, hammering her to the door and getting hold of the handle.

 

 

Trudy ( _grins_ ): This won't save you from them, haven't I told you that, stupid children?

 

 

Trudy grabs Mohammad. She jumps on Leila, catching her. The door slams open and tall yet shapeless entities enter the room. They try to cut Trudy from the window, but she into jumps into it swiftly, breaking the least of the glass.

 

 

Trudy: Off we go!

 

 

The last thing that Leila and Mohammad see are the faces of the entities. They are triangular, with eyes closed and mouth accreted shut.

 

 

 

 

 

ACT FOUR

 

 

 

Trudy jumps down in the lane. Mohammad punches her in the stomach and she throws him into the trash bins. Trash bins are falling, rattling.

 

 

Trudy ( _holding Leila_ ): You ain't a gentleman, I say.

 

Leila ( _stamps on Trudy's foot_ ): Let my brother go!

 

Trudy: For all the merciless devils of the Eastern Sea, he is gone – right into the waste-basket. Now, this really becomes annoying.

 

 

Trudy releases Leila and she runs to Mohammad, helping him to get up from the fallen bins and litter.

 

 

Mohammad ( _shocked_ ): She is a fucking Terminator. Her belly is like concrete!

 

Trudy: It is also called rigor mortis. I see blood here and there... He vomited and ran down the street begging for help, but nobody was able to help him because they just don't know what to do. It happens every century in every town: a raving man with the mouth full of blood.

 

Leila ( _defiantly_ ): Hey, you!

 

Trudy: Pardon?

 

Leila: I don't know who you are, and I fucking needn't. But if you are going to hurt Dennis or my brother, or...

 

Trudy: I have just saved your puny little lives, and instead of sheer “thank you, miss”, you tried to beat me and started discussion on my body conditions! Why are you, human, so annoying? I am doing the best I can not even looking at your sweet swelling jugular veins, not on your substantial wrists and acting like a bloody – oh dear, I shouldn't say the b-word, but still – I act like a darn lady, and you just can't quit asking silly questions.

 

Leila: What are you babbling about? Are you playing some kind of a shitty werewolf?

 

Trudy: Oh dear. If I only breathed, I would breathe louder. Give me this! ( _grabs Leila's hand_ )

 

Mohammad: Get the fuck away...

 

Trudy: Silence! I won't hurt you. If you raise your head and take a look at the window of your flat you will see the ones who would. You are a physician, Leila? So feel it. A heart, a pulse? Do you feel me breathing? No? It's all because I am not breathing because I am dead. Why won't you just listen to your instincts? I am dead for quite a while. From XVII century, to be precise.

 

Leila ( _without confidence_ ): You are mad.

 

Trudy: Aren't you a doctor so you don't believe your own senses? If not, let me show you more. ( _jumps on the wall and strolls on it_ ) Watch me walking the wall, denying the gravity. Do you believe me now, Leila?

 

Mohammad ( _looks into the broken window_ ): Where is my gun?

 

Leila: I've dropped it. Before she jumped on us, I think.

 

Mohammad: So what am I fucking supposed to fight those things if they get us? My bare hands & prosthesis? ( _turns his head to Leila and Trudy_ ) I ain't surprised anymore. I quit surprising next three-five years.

 

Leila ( _to Trudy_ ): Who are you?

 

Trudy ( _ignores her question_ ): Those things who came not for you, they came for Dennis. It takes them time to get out from the places they... err... use to dwell.

 

Mohammad: What if they climb down the fire escape and find us?

 

Trudy: They wouldn't do this.

 

Mohammad: Why?

 

Trudy: They can't. They were spared of this possibility just like me – of walking in without an invitation. They need a door, an entrance to get in, but they need no permission. Ahh... I sense him. Yak, not like that, Dennis!

 

Leila: What's with Dennis?

 

Trudy ( _moans_ ): He chose a wrong victim. Not like that, not in the street! ( _runs from the lane_ )

 

Mohammad: It may be just the time to call the police.

 

Leila: It may be just the time to follow her.

 

Mohammad: Follow woman with fangs, who says she was dead for five centuries?

 

Leila: I doubt there is danger in the streets. And I'm not going to leave her to find Dennis alone.

 

Mohammad: Dammit, girl, you like really love him or what?

 

Leila ( _furiously_ ): I could never leave the one who needed me. And this is all because of you! I wanted to leave you, but you always needed my help, and mom always wanted me to look after you. You think, you are like full-grown Marine, so this will end? Hell no, it'll never end, brother, so cut the crap and follow.

 

 

Leila runs from the lane after Trudy. Mohammad looks at the broken window and sees nobody. He looks disturbed as though something is wrong.

 

 

Mohammad: Ugh. That might be just the time to stay behind. But not with you, jerkfaces.

 

 

Trudy, Leila, and Mohammad run down the street, Trudy leading the way. Suddenly Trudy changes the direction and crosses the street right before the car. Leila avoids the bumper, but it nearly hits Mohammad.

 

 

The car driver ( _doesn't notice Mohammad's prosthesis_ ): Are you fucking blind?

 

Mohammad ( _menacingly_ ): Both my eyes are okay, but I have only one leg. Will it suit you if I beat you to death with my prosthesis one?

 

The car driver ( _examines Mohammad brawn_ ): Oh, I kind of... Kind of sorry, I mean...

 

Leila ( _to the driver_ ): We are late for a party. ( _takes Mohammad's hand_ )

 

The car driver: What party?

 

Trudy: A vampire masquerade. ( _smiles, showing the car driver her needle-like teeth_ )

 

 

The three reach the corner of the street. They stop before the city park entrance. Huge bronze gates surrounded by bushes from the side of the park lanes.

 

 

Trudy: Oh no, Dennis, not like that... ( _disappears in the bushes_ )

 

Leila ( _from the entrance_ ): You find him?

 

Mohammad ( _sulky_ ): She's found the corpse. Look, the grass is trumped, branches are broken...

 

Leila ( _rushing into the leaves_ ): Dennis' corpse? ( _Mohammad reluctantly follows her_ )

 

 

In the bushes Trudy squats over a policeman body, his neck lacerated.

 

 

Mohammad: You've bitten Dennis, that's why you asked if he's bitten us. He's got quite an appetite, huh?

 

Trudy ( _depressed_ ): I've never bitten a man since 60ies of XX century. I've always found it inhumane, but only in the sixties I found a way to get blood instead of sucking it from the people. I am sorry, you can't even imagine how I am sorry, but he provoked me. ( _sigh_ ) I have to admit, a vampire has her needs, and Dennis... oh, it's such a disgrace.

 

Leila: How could Dennis possibly provoke four hundred years old walking, talking and blood-lusty corpse? You are disgusting. Go, tear me apart for my words, I dare you!

 

Mohammad ( _to Leila_ ): Stop.

 

Trudy: Now you believe. It's always hard to believe in such thing. You watch TV shows there you see vampires who look like Waterhouse's sitters and you believe it is an XIX century fairy-tales with fair maidens in silk nightgowns and handsome gentlemen who ask to be invited to the manor. Vampirism are not like that. It is more like an illness you try to resist your whole afterlife, but you just can't win every time you face it.

 

Leila ( _wearily_ ): I don't know what I believe in. I call the police. We stay here, Mohammad.

 

Mohammad: I wasn't going to go into the park either. ( _to Trudy_ ) Will Dennis kill more? Can you stop him?

 

Trudy: I don't know how far it all has gone...

 

Mohammad ( _interrupts her_ ): Can you stop him?

 

Trudy: I will try. And don't interrupt me, I get nervous. It all has happened between me and Dennis because I got nervous...

 

Leila ( _outbursts with tears_ ): Enough! Has anybody told you what a fucking monster you are?

 

Trudy ( _desperately_ ): Everyone makes mistakes! He came into my bookshop, his neck open, talked to me, wanted to kiss me, never left when I asked him – what should I do?

 

Mohammad: No means no. He wouldn't ask you to suck his blood in any way... What the shit am I talking about? C'mon, Lali.

 

Leila: Don't call me that.

 

Trudy: You know, you two should be happy. No matter what happens, you have yourselves. You are a family, a luxury I could never afford. Once we had Clans, but not anymore – it was easier to survive alone then the history came to the Big Cities. At least, it was what I was told by my mistress.

 

Leila: Just go! Do what you must. Everyone should do what they must! Goodness, how I hate this word - “must”! All the time you must, must, must. I must have been responsible for my brother, for my lover, for everyone in this fucking world. Who are you to say that the family is a luxury? You now nothing about families! Family is a prison you get locked in, chained by your mother, father, brother, sisters – everyone who is going to use you just because they think you old enough and responsible enough. Luxury... I've never asked for that luxury!

 

Trudy: I am sorry again. I will try to do it in, erm, the right way. So... Well... I should go.

 

 

Mohammad holds Leila. He remains silent.

 

 

 

 

 

ACT FIVE

 

 

 

Night park. The moon shines over the bridge across the pond. Trees are whispering in the wind. Dennis stands on the bridge, a dead body lies behind him.

 

 

Trudy ( _steps on the bridge_ ): Here you are, silly boy. Your friends are so worried that you've run away. ( _looks down_ ) At least, it is not running water. The pond is quite... still. Where are always so much trouble with running water.

 

 

Dennis stands, swinging. One his eye is white, the other one is bloody red, his face covered with fresh scars, but scars are not bleeding. He growls, tearing his face with his nails, which are twice longer than normal size.

 

 

Trudy ( _persistently_ ): I kindly ask you to speak. You are no ghoul. You can speak and do it in a proper way, please. I know it hurts. It is burning inside of you and you just don't know what to do with all this pain.

 

Dennis: It hurrrts, it hurrrts! ( _mumbles in Latin_ )

 

Trudy: Yes, it hurts. But you need to get over it, or they will come after you. I wouldn't be able to protect you if they will come after you and you will be so out of control. Take the control, Dennis. You need to take the control.

 

Dennis: Who am I? I kill! I am hungry! I can't stop!

 

Trudy: But you can. You can stop. Why don't you stop, Dennis? I can hear you praying backwards. I am not impressed, too: you are no possessed. Stop, Dennis, please.

 

Dennis ( _covers his face in his hands_ ): I don't... want... to...

 

Trudy: Why, Dennis?

 

Dennis: They hurrrt... they hurrrt me... ( _vomits blood on the ground_ )

 

Trudy ( _comes closer_ ): Who hurt you, Dennis?

 

Dennis ( _puts his hands on the bridge's railing, shakes his head_ ): He told me to be, but I couldn't... He beat, he locked, he said I am nothing. I felt ba-ad, I felt ba-ad. Took me to the doctor, the doctor said I'm ill. She.. She said I am ill because I was always unstable. ( _outcries with anger_ ) Lies! All lies! A was just a kid! I was normal! He did it to me! They did it to me!

 

Trudy ( _takes a few more steps closer_ ): What have they done to you?

 

Dennis ( _beats his head with his fist_ ): Broke me. He broke me. He broke me like a doll. Mo would be a better son for him. He was big and strong, and I was weak, I was always weak. I was a bad seed, he said. All from her side, she was always weak. ( _shivers_ ) That son of a bitch knew nothing of me! I survived all they put me through. I graduated. I am an actor. He was a piece of shit for all that time, how can he judge me?!

 

 

Dennis turns at Trudy, his eyes full of hatred.

 

 

Trudy ( _carefully_ ): Dennis...

 

Dennis: What?

 

Trudy: You took control.

 

Dennis: No I didn't.

 

Trudy: You took control, you howl no more, you speak. I wish I had a mirror, but you wouldn't see your face there. You only had to believe me: now you look like a human. Pale a bit, but some like it pale.

 

Dennis ( _uncomprehendingly_ ): Why I can't see my face in the mirror if I can see it in the water? ( _bends over the railing_ ) I can't see myself in the water! ( _jumps back on the bridge, turns around_ ) What the hell is going on... ( _sees the dead body_ ) Shit, piss, fuck, cunt – I wish I had Tourette instead of that shit! What hap... What happened... ( _looks at his hands, covered with blood_ ) It was me! It was me, right? I killed people, I, like... Like torn them apart with my bare hands! ( _looks at Trudy helplessly_ ) Why? I ate them, or what?

 

Trudy: You've drunk their blood. You was hungry and wanted more blood than you actually needed. Sometimes it happens to a young, erm... ( _hesitates_ ) specimen.

 

Dennis ( _snaps_ ): Stop talking to me in that terrible “good crazy doctor” style, okay? You are doing it wrong! ( _grabs his head_ ) Shit, everything is so wrong!

 

Trudy: Dennis, you know you've changed. You've made mistakes, yes, but now you took control. You can make it, I believe. Please, let me explain...

 

Dennis ( _angrily_ ): Explain fucking what?

 

Trudy ( _starts at large_ ): Well, I'm not sure if I am being too hard on you right now, but I just don't know any other way to tell the truth: as for me, I wasn't even told. My mistress told me to follow here when I gambled and I lost all the remnants of my fortune. She... erm, well, turned me in and started to command me in my head even before I realized it was she who told me to drink all those burghers dry...

 

Dennis ( _yells at her, tossing from side to side_ ): What the hell are you talking about? Are you mad? I'm already sick of the story of your ex-lover!

 

Trudy: Dennis, you are a vampire. Just like mistress Giselle who bit me. Just like me.

 

Dennis: A Bela Lugozi vampire or a Gary Oldman vampire?

 

Trudy ( _puzzled_ ): Well, I don't know. You can be both if you like.

 

Dennis: Stop shitting me. I am not a vampire, it's a complete trash.

 

Trudy: Don't you remember that night and all that you've done?

 

Dennis ( _roars, his eyes reddening_ ): I DO!

 

Trudy ( _softly_ ): And do you, well, remember how did you become one? No? I am sorry. I need to explain. Why is everything so hard? ( _aside_ ) Maybe I better don't tell him...

 

Dennis: Speak!

 

Trudy: It was me who bit you. In the bookshop, if you remember...

 

Dennis: Don't.

 

Trudy: Dennis, I apologize. I am so terribly sorry...

 

Dennis: DON'T!

 

Trudy: Dennis, please!

 

Dennis: YOU'VE MADE ME A MONSTER!

 

Trudy: Dennis, please. Take control. Can't you feel them coming? They needn't see you like this. Neither ones, nor anothers. Here, take my hand. You only need to take control and I will get you out of here.

 

Dennis ( _bitterly_ ): Isn't it too late?

 

 

Leila comes running, Mohammad after her.

 

 

Leila: Dennis!

 

 

Dennis clenches Trudy's fingers, his nails slices her skin.

 

 

Dennis ( _calmly_ ): Hi, Leila. You know what? I am still hungry.

 

Mohammad: Fuck this shit, we must have waited for the police outside. Leila? ( _tries to grab Leila's shoulder, but misses_ ) Leila! ( _Leila walks to Dennis_ )

 

 

As Leila approaches, Dennis watches her, holding Trudy's hand, his nails in her flesh.

 

 

Mohammad: We are fucking going back. Don't make eye contact with him, don't...

 

Dennis ( _to Mohammad_ ): You think I am a mad dog, Mo?

 

Mohammad ( _to Leila_ ): We are going back, Lali, can you hear me?

 

Leila ( _strictly_ ): I ain't going back.

 

Mohammad: He will kill you, Lali. He killed a lot today. You fucking - I mean, really - need to go back.

 

Leila ( _looks Dennis into the eyes, his eyes turn red again_ ): I don't give a damn. He nearly killed me when he told he needed personal space and we had to live separate. I loved that bastard more than anyone in my life because he needed me like no one in my life. And he needed “personal space” instead of me?

 

Mohammad: That doesn't mean letting him eat you alive!

 

Leila: He won't fucking eat me!

 

Trudy: He doesn't need your flesh, I told it several times.

 

Mohammad: Do you look like I give a damn? He is attacking my sister!

 

Leila: He is not attacking me, you moron.

 

Dennis: Objection: I can't say I am not trying.

 

 

Dennis throws Trudy in the water and jumps on Leila. Mohammad punches him in the mouth but only skins his fist.

 

 

Mohammad: You must step other my body first!

 

Dennis ( _darkly_ ): It all depends on how much blood you have.

 

 

Mohammad hits Dennis in the mouth again, some of Dennis' teeth staggering. Dennis bites Mohammad's arm to the bone, spitting with blood and meat.

 

 

Leila: Let him go!

 

 

Leila throws herself on Dennis' back, but he turns swiftly and pushes her away, so she hits the railing. Meanwhile grayish shadows appear on the over side of the bridge. The wilder Dennis look, the more tangible they become.

 

 

Dennis: You all betrayed me!

 

Mohammad ( _punches Dennis in the chest, Dennis backs up_ ): Who betrayed you? Me? You came at my place for dinner fro months! I took your shorts to the laundry! I didn't even broke your bones than you dated my sister and broke up with her! You, pathetic jerk... Aargh!

 

 

Dennis catches Mohammad's arm and twists it. Mohammad falls on his knees, his teeth clenched.

 

 

Dennis: You left me alone in the dark. I saw nightmares about the woman in the shop. I saw gray shadows. My pills didn't work and I told you that, I begged for help. You did nothing. You said I needed more pills.

 

Leila ( _moans_ ): You wouldn't believe to someone telling such stories. Nobody would! There is no his fault.

 

Dennis ( _turns his head to Leila_ ): Yes. Yes. There is yours! You told me you loved me. Why didn't you believe in my nightmares?

 

 

Out of shadow, gray figures appear. They start to cross the bridge slowly. They are moving like blind, touching the air with their fingers.

 

 

Dennis: You left me and she turned me into the mon... ( _jerks_ ) ...ster...

 

 

Dennis' hand on Mohammad's arm unclenches. Dennis stands still, only his eyes moving in the sockets. In a blink of the moment, he explodes with a cloud of bats.

 

 

Trudy ( _walks from under the bridge, water pouring from her clothes_ ): Now run! They need vampires, but they devour human, too, if hungry, and they are!

 

 

Grey figures look disoriented when Dennis is gone. Their silhouettes become transparent, the outline blurs. Grey figures creep to Leila, who is closer to them than Mohammad. The closer they are, the heavier Leila's breath, her cheeks become gray and eyes cloudy.

 

 

Leila ( _weakly_ ): What are those things? (holds on the railing, stands up)

 

Mohammad ( _hurries to her_ ): That doesn't matter, let's go!

 

 

Police sirens are howling in a distance. Blinks of red and blue are seen among the trees.

 

 

Trudy: Find the people, stay by people, now run!

 

 

Trudy watches Mohammad and Leila leaving, Mohammad helping Leila to walk. Grey figures stop at the end of the bridge. They look like a fog, barely visible outlines are weak and greased.

 

 

Trudy ( _exhausted_ ): The trick with the mind control is all about you having a mind to be controlled. I could do nothing with him while he was like that, could I?

 

 

 

Turning into the flock of bats, Trudy flies away heavily. Grey fog rises to reach her, but the last bats are already gone. A sigh heard in the wind, fog is slowly vanishing.

 

 


End file.
